


A constant friendship in all other things

by longhandnotebook



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Boners, Café Musain, Canon Era, Drunk Sex, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pontmercying, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhandnotebook/pseuds/longhandnotebook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well?" </p><p>Marius had his hands in his pockets, his shoulders up, and said sheepishly, "I passed."</p><p>"Marius!" Courfeyrac clapped him on the shoulder. "This is excellent news. We must get drunk immediately."</p><p>***<br/>Marius/Courfeyrac for the kinkmeme. Prompt: "Straight Courfeyrac and straight Marius go out for a night of drinking, come back to their apartment, collapse in their shared bed together, and proceed to fuck like crazy. Then in the morning, the horror dawns. The embarrassed blushes when they go to the cafe and have to sit on opposite sides of the room from each other. NEVER AGAIN except maybe they end up kissing in bed the next night because it's undeniably fun here we go again."</p><p>Or, the one the "Pontmercying" tag was invented for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A constant friendship in all other things

"Well?"

Marius had his hands in his pockets, his shoulders up, and said sheepishly, "I passed."

"Marius!" Courfeyrac clapped him on the shoulder. "This is excellent news. We must get drunk immediately."

First they went to a wine bar on the river, tucked under the bridge, with a low ceiling, and drank as the sun set. Marius sat on a stool and ducked his head when Courfeyrac told the owner, "That's my friend, a student no longer!"

"Then he can pay," the owner said.

"Oh, no!" Courfeyrac said. "Tonight, he pays for nothing. Wine? On me. Food? From my pocketbook. Women?"

"Courfeyrac!" Marius said.

Courfeyrac leaned on the bar, drained his glass and laughed.

They passed the Musain, where Courfeyrac stilled him and promised to return "in just a moment, I have a thing to say to Combeferre that cannot wait." Marius waited outside with hot cheeks. After several minutes Courfeyrac stuck his head out the first floor window. "Marius! Come in," he said. "All is forgiven now that you are officially passed from the ranks of the indigent to the upwardly mobile petite-bourgeoisie."

"Are you joking?" Marius called up.

Courfeyrac shrugged, grinned and retracted his head. Marius breathed in, out, and went inside.

Bottles of crémant had been procured and poured when he opened the door to the back room, and Courfeyrac said, "To Marius, who has made it out alive!" Even sober Enjolras raised a glass, smiling, though he set it down without drinking and returned to his conversation with Feuilly. Courfeyrac rescued the unloved drink, and thrust it into Marius' other hand as he pulled him to the back and sat him next to Grantaire. He gazed fondly down at both of them, said, "Be a good influence upon each other", and veered to the window seat to resume what sounded like a very old argument with Combeferre.

Marius had hardly had moment to draw breath since entering the sanctum when Grantaire cheerfully turned to him and said, "Good, you won't have heard this one. Let me tell you about a _fantastic_ fuck I had last week..."

After an hour Marius' face was flushed; he had not drunk more than a mouthful of wine in total in several months, from poverty and study, and the crémant was working quickly in him. Grantaire was looking sardonically at him and saying, "I'm sure I don't understand how a lawyer can be so unironic."

"Have you met a lawyer?" Marius looked up to see Courfeyrac standing over him, wavering slightly back and forth, a glass of red wine in his hand (had the fizz run out already? Marius looked at his feet to see an empty bottle), smiling the open glazed smile of a young man with emptying pockets and good digestion.

"Have you ever kissed anyone, Marius?" he said loudly. "I'm sure they cannot allow you to become a lawyer without having been kissed."

Marius went bright, dark red. He wanted these men, whom he respected so much and understood so little, to think well of him – and here was his friend, who was already so easily a part of them, embarrassing him in front of the whole room.

"I'm sure he has," Grantaire said, draping against his shoulder. "Look at that bitten-rose-red mouth, those dark Gothic good looks. How could a grisette resist him? I am sure I could not." Marius' anxiety dissolved and he laughed: he knew this was part of the game. He had seen Courfeyrac do this jokingly before, and before he could think he imitated his friend, pressing a closed-mouth kiss awkwardly to the corner of Grantaire's wine-smeared mouth. Grantaire chuckled under him. Bossuet whooped across the room, and Marius pulled back, pleased with his ability to play along.

"You see?" he said.

Courfeyrac looked down critically. "That looked terrible," he said. He kneeled in front of Marius and put a hand behind his head, pulling him in. His lips were slightly chapped and he tasted mostly of Burgundy; he opened his mouth slightly and ran his tongue along Marius' lips, gently tasting him and encouraging him to open. Marius was so surprised he tipped half his drink down Courfeyrac's arm. His friend lifted his head and without breaking eye contact slowly, deliberately, licked it away. Marius watched and unconsciously licked his own lips, mesmerised by Courfeyrac's mouth.

"Courfeyrac," Combeferre said, warning and joking.

"It's fine," Marius insisted. "It's fun! I'm having fun!"

"Marius, come," Courfeyrac said, standing. "I have been negligent in my friendly love towards you, if this is the best you can count in your memories. Come: tonight I'll introduce you to the charming Mlle. Valerie and her only slightly less charming friend Mlle. Eugenie. Eugenie's for you," he stage-whispered.

The other men were pulling on coats, Marius saw, the meeting was over. Enjolras nodded as he passed out, and Joly and Feuilly both shook his hand. "Congratulations," Feuilly said.

"Off to meet mistresses?" Bahorel said, brushing his trousers with his hand. "I'll come along."

"As will I," Combeferre said.

But Mlles. Valerie and Eugenie were not to be found in any of their usual haunts, and the men gave up at a smoky wine bar, where they shared a bottle and left Bahorel rolling up his sleeves to play cards. They shared another at a high-ceilinged café, where Courfeyrac and Marius slipped away as Combeferre fell into an argument with a fellow student about anatomy.

The moon was bright and Courfeyrac trilled a song. Marius wanted to shush him but couldn't stop laughing. He began to hiccup.

"Marius," Courfeyrac said. His eyes were very dilated, from the dark and the drink. "You are simply too adorable to not be in a picture-book, and I regret deeply that I have let you down tonight." They had reached their door, and Courfeyrac grasped for his keys.

"Let me down?" Marius tried to think of what his friend could mean. "Do you mean at the Musain?"

Courfeyrac's hand was on the door, and he stopped. Marius continued, "Because I do like those people, you know! I don't resent you taking me back there, if that’s what you're worried about." Courfeyrac smiled and pushed open the door and they went inside. Marius breathed in the still air of the flat, which faintly smelled of the toast he had burned that morning before his exam.

"One last drink!" Courfeyrac said, heading to the cabinet. "Before the night catches up with us." Marius took off his coat and could not quite make it hang on the hook; it fell to the floor. He began to pull his cravat loose, but the knot was suddenly very complicated.

"I'm tired," he said plaintively. "This is too difficult." Courfeyrac set down the brandy bottle and walked over, very close, and reached up to undo it. Somehow his friend was still dextrous even after so much wine, and as he tugged loose the knot and unwound the cloth, his fingertips brushed Marius' throat. Marius swallowed.

"I don't want any more to drink," he said.

Courfeyrac nodded, not taking his eyes off Marius'.

Marius stopped thinking, leaned in, closed his eyes and kissed him, and Courfeyrac immediately opened his mouth and enthusiastically kissed him back.

They fumbled upstairs and tumbled into Courfeyrac's bed. Marius dropped his cravat on the stairs, his jacket in the hall, his shirt on the floor and his trousers Courfeyrac was pulling off with the expression of a cat who has found a particularly willing mouse. Marius was hot and trembling, and Courfeyrac seemed to know everything about where to touch him and how to kiss him, while he knew nothing.

That lasted until Courfeyrac uncovered his cock, at which he raised himself up and looked taken aback. "I forgot about that part," he said.

Marius was taken with giggles. "You have one too," he said. He tugged down Courfeyrac's trousers.

"I know what to do with _mine_ ," Courfeyrac said, affronted. "It's someone else's I've never had to work out before."

"I expect it's the same," Marius said. He propped himself up on his elbows, feeling surprisingly at ease and confident. "I mean, I've never done anything before and it seems to be going well."

"Oh Marius, sweet child," Courfeyrac said. "Well, here goes nothing," and he slipped down the bed and took Marius in his mouth. Marius' eyes practically rolled back in his head as he slumped against the mattress. "Christ almighty," he said.

Courfeyrac lifted his head. "It's good, isn't it," he said smugly.  
  
"Don't _stop_ ," Marius said, and Courfeyrac didn't.

Marius had, of course, brought himself off with his hand before, but he had not expected _that_ to be such a lifeless first draft of _this_ , like a schoolboy pencil sketch to a Carpaccio. Courfeyrac had snaked a hand around his leg to hold him in place and was running the other up his thigh, while Marius didn't know where to touch him: he threaded his fingers through his friend's hair and bit his lip to keep down a whimper. He failed.  
  
Courfeyrac heard the noise and took his mouth away, breathless. "Hold on," he gasped, "let me try something–" Marius could not think before Courfeyrac's warm wet mouth was _all_ around him, and Marius was deeper in than he thought possible. He began to shake, overcome: he thrust three or four times, gave a choked gargle and began to spend.  
  
Between his thighs Courfeyrac made a surprised noise and gripped Marius' hip. Marius felt a crashing wave of embarrassment, but Courfeyrac stayed there until Marius finished, then raised his head and wiped his mouth with a grin.  
  
"S-sorry," Marius said. "I didn't, ah, "  
  
"I believe it's considered polite to give warning," Courfeyrac said, "but never mind, I call that an excellent success." Marius was relieved, and nervous, as Courfeyrac crawled over him, and put his hand between his legs.  
  
" _Ah_ ," said Marius, still sensitive and quite wet with spit and spunk. Their cocks brushed as Courfeyrac angled his between Marius' thighs, and began to fuck.  
  
Marius could not quite reach to kiss him, so he ran his hands along his friend's sides, grasping at his back and arse. Courfeyrac ducked his head to nip at his neck, scraping his teeth on Marius' skin, and as his hips moved faster he began breathing obscenities in Marius' ear, joyfully filthy words tossed off carelessly. Marius closed his eyes and let it wash over him. Soon Courfeyrac buried his face against Marius' shoulder and half-bit down with a grunt, and Marius felt a short hot gush between them on the sheets. Courfeyrac relaxed into a slump.  
  
They lay breathing for a long moment, then Courfeyrac lifted his head and kissed Marius full on the mouth. Marius tried to bring his hand up to caress his head, and accidentally stuck a finger in Courfeyrac's ear.  
  
His friend broke away and laughed.  
  
"That was delightful," he announced. "And I am _fucking exhausted_." And he put his head on the pillow and was asleep.  
  
I, Marius thought, am a lawyer. And he fell asleep.  
  
***  
  
Marius woke up and thought: let me never have to wake up again, let me crawl into oblivion and die if that will take away this pain in my head. He shifted and found Courfeyrac was sharing his pillow, and his arm was around him, warm and strong – they were both out of their nightclothes – Marius suddenly remembered the previous night, _all_ of the previous night, and scrambled out of bed, hastily picking up and shaking out his trousers. His _head_.  
  
Courfeyrac half-raised his head. "I'm dying," he mumbled into the pillow.  
  
"All right, well, I'm getting breakfast, goodbye!" Marius said in a high voice. He pulled on his clothing as he found it on the stairs, laced his shoes as he put on his jacket and closed the door behind him.  
  
Of course he was not getting breakfast: he had no money. He would have been happy to stay in bed, where he would not have been reminded of his poverty with every shop or bakery he passed, but after last night staying was impossible.  
  
The day was mockingly sunny. A bird sang sweetly on a gate, and Marius stood glaring. It stopped and looked at him – looked _right_ at him, Marius thought – and started up again.  
  
Marius sighed.  
  
He walked to the river and stood on the bank dropping stones into it one by one and watching them sink into oblivion. He envied them. They would not have to go back and face Courfeyrac – to whom, on top of the previous night's catastrophe, he still owed ten louis.  
  
Marius was overwhelmed and pressed his hand feelingly to his heart. He felt an oddity in his breast pocket. He drew out a watch that was not his own.

And then he remembered Bahorel pressing it into his hand, saying, "Take this away before I gamble!" and Marius promising to bring it safely the café the next day. Which was today.  
  
Maybe Bahorel has been horribly killed in a fight, he thought hopefully, and I won't have to face any of them again.

For most of the day Marius ranged the streets with his hands in his pockets, scrupulously avoiding any areas he knew Courfeyrac might frequent. He did this until he reached Père Lachaise in the late afternoon and had the dismal thought that Courfeyrac might be doing the same thing to avoid _him_ , and they would meet by mistake. Seeing Courfeyrac on these unfamiliar streets would be much worse than doing so on known ground, so Marius wheeled around and half-ran towards the river and the Musain. As he passed the Place de la Bastille he had a momentary crisis of political opinion, but this was quickly subsumed into more pressing anxieties.

Where could he live now? It was summer. He could sleep outside under a weeping willow. Of course he could not hope to be so lucky as to find another friend as kind as Courfeyrac, who liked Marius despite his very old coat and his awkward opinions. Marius recalled the previous night in forcefully detailed pieces: his terrible inexperience, his clumsy kissing in the hall, his humiliating hastiness in Courfeyrac's mouth.

"Oh, life is nothing but misery!" he wailed aloud.

A man and wife were walking past with their small child, and the woman pulled the child in close, saying, "Come along now!"

"Misery," Marius said, more convinced than before.

He went to the café like this, every step more convinced of the futility of existence, and met Prouvaire coming out of the doorway.

"Bahorel will be pleased to see you!" Prouvaire said. "He has an engagement at ten o'clock, which he is anxious not to be late for."

There was nothing for it now, he had to go in. 

"Marius!" Bahorel said, looking genuinely happy to see him. "I knew you were the sort of man who could be relied on."

"Hm," Enjolras said.

To thank him for keeping his watch safe Bahorel had bought him a half-bottle, and Marius could not throw such a gesture back in the face of someone who had done nothing wrong. As he had not eaten that day he was careful not to drink too quickly, and drawing out the wine he found himself laughing – really laughing – at Bahorel's detailed comic story of what had happened last night after they parted ways.

That laughter stopped when footsteps came up the stairs and Courfeyrac appeared in the doorway.

They stared at each other, Marius in agony. His face was cold, he could not hear a word in the room. He could not move. He suddenly felt the memory of his friend's hand between his legs, _there_ , and the feeling of his body pressed against his own; Courfeyrac's messy hot kisses along his neck and the sweetly painful impression of his teeth, which Marius could still feel when his shirt shifted. Courfeyrac was looking back at him with an unreadable, pained expression, and Marius easily guessed what he was thinking: how to tell him that he, Marius, had been a fumbling amateur, inappropriately forward without even having the skills to make it worth Courfeyrac's while, and now Courfeyrac must throw him out of the flat and he must live on the streets and die and drift down the Seine towards the sea, or worse, his grandfather's house.

Marius dropped his eyes and turned back to Bahorel, who had not noticed his brief inattention; gradually his face filled back up with blood and the roaring in his ears subsided. He was very conscious of Courfeyrac walking to Enjolras' table, hovering over him and saying something that made him laugh, and Marius was furiously envious of Courfeyrac's easy way of getting along with all sorts of people.

Bahorel had paused, possibly because he had asked a question, and Marius said in despair, "I don't know where to sleep tonight."

"Lucky man!" Bahorel said. "So you did find success after you left me!" Marius flushed, and Bahorel's smile turned from teasing to knowing. "You _did!_ Who was she? Did you find the mysterious mademoiselles after all? Or, you charmer, pick up a stranger?"

"Oh, neither," Courfeyrac said with forced carelessness. Marius turned around. Courfeyrac's face was pale and slightly strained but his voice and mannerisms were as animated as ever. "A dull story: I rather predictably took ill and Marius was required to see me home." He looked at Marius. "I must apologise now that I am sober, and reassure you: I don't mean to impose on you that way again."

Somehow this made Marius even more distressed than before.

"It was mostly my fault," Marius said. "For, ah, starting it all off." Courfeyrac opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but could not think of what.

"Happens to the best of us," Bahorel said amiably. "I vomited on the foundations of the Arc de Triomphe once."

"Understandable," Enjolras said, with what might be a smile if Marius thought Enjolras ever smiled rather than sitting in corners terrifying people. "Have you time to continue?" This, directed to Courfeyrac, was not a command, but a simple question of priorities, and Courfeyrac laughed fondly and returned to their discussion.

Marius and Bahorel took back up their own conversation, and were soon joined by Feuilly. He asked Marius about his exams until Marius felt confident enough to make a joke, and Feuilly responded in kind. For the first time ever in this room, Marius found himself relaxed.

When Feuilly bought him another drink over his real protests, Marius became warm and happy, and very tired after walking all day and no food. Soon Bahorel excused himself, and Marius realised with a shock that it must be nearly ten o'clock already. He finished his glass, shook Feuilly's hand and stood.

"I'm off home," he said. Then he remembered that Courfeyrac had almost certainly come looking for him to throw him out. Marius looked at him, stricken.

"I'll see you there," Courfeyrac said. He glanced up. "I won't be too long."

Marius walked back to the flat almost mechanically, very confused. He let himself in and sat in the chair. He stared at the wall and tried to decide what was happening. It was not ten minutes until Courfeyrac arrived, only just out of breath. Marius' shoes were still on. Neither of them spoke. Courfeyrac finally did.  
  
"I only wanted to say, if it's more comfortable for you, I'll sleep on the chair." His eyes were fixed somewhere on the floor in the far corner. "Enjolras has done it and says it isn't too hard."  
  
"But – it's your bed," Marius said. "I should be the one to sleep in the chair. In fact I shouldn't even still be here."  
  
"What? Why on earth not?"  
  
"I acted poorly last night."  
  
"No more poorly than I did," Courfeyrac said. "Come, we are friends. I acted provocatively and you responded."  
  
"You ought to throw me out," Marius said.  
  
Courfeyrac stared. "What kind of a man would I be to do that and throw someone out the very next day? I confess, I am not easily hurt but I am saddened that you would think that of me."  
  
"I only thought," Marius said miserably.  
  
His friend's expression shifted, from injury to the much more familiar look of teasing. "Well, stop doing that immediately. You aren't any good at it."  
  
"The chair isn't very comfortable," Marius said.  
  
Courfeyrac laughed. "I think Enjolras may be a slight masochist," he said. "Let's to sleep."  
  
With his nightshirt on Marius nestled into the sheets. He tried very hard to keep from touching Courfeyrac, but he was cold and his friend, as ever, was radiating warmth. After a very brief time, surely no more than a minute or two, he was horrified to feel his cock stiffening, from the closeness of Courfeyrac's body and the memories of last night, which were suddenly crowding in his head more insistently than ever. It was impossible Courfeyrac did not feel it. Marius squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for death.  
  
Courfeyrac rolled over to face him, and Marius opened his eyes and pulled back, hoping his arousal was not nakedly readable on his face.  
  
"It strikes me," Courfeyrac said, and stopped.  
  
Marius looked at him. He was staring at Marius' lower lip and biting his own.  
  
"If you wish me to stop, all you have to do is say the word, or – anything," Courfeyrac said, and he bent his head to kiss Marius.  
  
It was agreeably, blissfully _good_.  
  
Marius sighed through his nose, and moved under Courfeyrac, reaching to pull him closer and feel the press of their bodies together again. He slid his knee between Courfeyrac's legs and Courfeyrac began to kiss along his neck, reaching the spot where his teeth had marked Marius last night. Marius groaned, low and deep in his throat.  
  
Courfeyrac broke the kiss.  
  
"Is this–?"  
  
" _Don't stop_ ," Marius said, and Courfeyrac didn't.


End file.
